


The Make-Up Game

by pied_pollo



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Behavioral Analysis Unit? More like Bickering Adolescent Unit, Criminal Minds AU: Patron Saint of Lost Causes, Fluff and Humor, clue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25845994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pied_pollo/pseuds/pied_pollo
Summary: Emily wants to sneak out. Derek and Spencer are fighting. Hotch and Alex decide to distract them.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 112





	The Make-Up Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [themetaphorgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/themetaphorgirl/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Patron Saint of Lost Causes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24442195) by [themetaphorgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/themetaphorgirl/pseuds/themetaphorgirl). 



> PLEEEASE READ THE PATRON SAINTS AU IT'S ANGSTY AND FUNNY AND ADORABLE AND YOU WON'T REGRET IT!

“But _whyyyy?_ ” Emily whined for the third time that day.

“No,” Alex replied, without looking up from her book.

Penelope opened her mouth.

“ _No_ ,” Alex repeated firmly.

“This isn’t fair,” Emily complained, draping herself over the edge of the bed. “You don’t want me to have a life.”

“You can’t go.”

“You’re not my mom.”

“And _you’re_ not twenty-one yet,” Alex retorted. “It’s a stupid idea and I don’t want to deal with the repercussions.”

“Who says you’ll be the one to deal with it?” Penelope offered. Both the girls turned their heads to give her an annoyed glare. “Okay, yeah. Never mind.”

“What’s going on?” JJ asked as she entered the room, munching loudly on a bag of chips.

“ _Nothing’s_ going on,” Emily grumbled, “‘cause Blake’s being a buzzkill. _Pleeeease!_ ”

Alex threw down the book in her hands and crossed her arms. “You can’t sneak out of a _boarding school_ to go to a _club_ that you’re not even old enough to be at.”

“Ah, but there’s where you’re wrong,” Emily said, “because I _am_ old enough to be there.” She rustled in her bag, and after a moment, proudly brandished an ID card. Alex snatched it from her hands and squinted at the credentials.

“ _FBI?_ ” she scoffed.

“Hey, no one questions the FBI,” Emily argued. “I could be, like, an undercover agent or something. Good, right?”

“No,” Alex replied, tucking the fake ID into her pocket. “Who’s hosting this getaway? I’d like to have a word with them.”

“Snitches get--”

Emily’s words were cut off by a loud buzz as Alex’s phone vibrated on the floor. On the screen was a text from Hotch: _Library in 10?_

“It’s Hotch,” Alex read aloud. “He wants us in the library.”

* * *

_THWACK._

Hotch turned just in time to see Spencer toppling to the ground after getting smacked in the head with a book. Across from him sat Derek, looking mildly guilty but more annoyed than anything.

“What’s going on?” Hotch demanded, striding over. Spencer and Derek clambered to their feet.

“Spencer was--”

“--Derek threw--”

Hotch held up his hand. “One at a time, please.”

“Hotch, he won’t shut up!” Derek complained.

“So you threw a book at him?”

Spencer plunked down in his seat, wiping his eyes. “I was just helping him study.”

“Helping him how?”

“I don’t need help!” Derek exclaimed indignantly. “Just ‘cause you’re a genius doesn’t mean everyone else is stupid. I can do the work--wait,” he added, after glancing at Spencer’s books, “you’re not even in this class!”

Spencer wriggled in his seat. “But if you--”

“Enough,” Hotch interrupted, looking back and forth between the two. “Do we need to play a game?”

Derek threw his binder on the ground. “Oh, for God’s sake, Hotch, quit it with the making-up games!”

It was then that Rossi entered the library, looking tired at first, but stopping in his tracks when he noticed the carnage at the far table. “Ooh, a make-up game,” he commented. “Always love those.”

James pushed through the doors behind him, wrinkling his nose in confusion. “Make-up game?”

Hotch wandered through the bookshelves, messing with his phone, and after a moment he stopped to slide a box from the bottom of the shelf.

“Who’s fighting?” Alex asked as she walked into the library, Emily dragging her feet not too far behind.

“Take a guess,” Hotch replied dryly, placing the box on the table. 

Derek read the label and groaned. “Ugh, Clue? That’s so lame, Hotch.”

“Oh, my God, I call Miss Scarlet!” Penelope declared as she burst into the library, earning a chorus of _shhhhh_ from the inhabitants.

Hotch opened the box and started to spread out the pieces, and Spencer bounced in his seat excitedly. Meanwhile, Emily plopped into one of the chairs, a stormy expression occupying her face.

“This is really gonna suck,” she grumbled.

* * *

“ _Charming, artistic, and temperamental, Lord Gray served as a cartographer in World War I, and now designs water gardens for wealthy clients,_ ” Emily read dramatically. “ _With whom is he feuding, and how far will he go to get the upper hand?_ ”

“Oh, he totally did it,” Rossi crowed.

JJ frowned. “But that’s you, Rossi.” 

“And how could you have done it if you’re in the room looking for clues?” James added.

“Interestingly enough, a lot of serial killers will inject themselves into the investigation,” Spencer chirped happily, fiddling with his piece. “It stems from a combination of trying to stay ahead of the police and trying to be with the police. Many of these killers will actually apply for such positions before--”

“ _Okay_ , my turn,” Derek interrupted loudly, and Spencer slumped in his chair until only his pouting face was visible above the table. “I got a four.”

He moved his little piece around and turned to Penelope. “Can I go in the room now?”

Penelope shook her head. “You have to land _in_ the room, not outside the door,” she explained.

“Couldn’t we just, like, kick the door in?”

“Hotch, stop cheating,” Rossi called, sliding the envelope over to Hotch, who scowled.

“You can’t play if you know it, Rossi,” he scolded, tucking the envelope in his pocket.

“I don’t know. I’m just guessing,” Rossi insisted, checking off a number of boxes on his sheet.

Spencer had stopped sulking underneath the table and now sat happily in Alex’s lap, sifting through the cards and twirling the dice in his fingers. Alex bent down to whisper something in his ear.

“What?” James asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.

Spencer looked just as confused and turned to Alex. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“What?” James pressed again.

“How could someone be killed with the rope if the box shows the silhouette holding a revolver?” Spencer mused.

Alex sighed and ruffled his hair. “Artistic license.”

“But if--”

“Guns look cooler on the cover, Reid,” Hotch said. “It draws in the suspense; people would probably be less interested if they saw someone holding a rope in the window, because we associate a gun with death and danger.”

“But see, if I were the killer,” Derek countered, “I would use the rope for that exact reason. You’d never see it coming.”

“That would be hard to do, though,” Spencer argued, “because asphyxiation by strangulation takes around five minutes, not to mention the fact that we don’t know how old our victim is, their build, their experience, and how they react to being attacked.”

Hotch leaned over to James. “Have a word with Dave about not showing Spencer those cop shows, okay?” he murmured. James nodded fearfully.

Meanwhile, Penelope burrowed her face in Emily’s arm. “I don’t like all this death talk,” she whimpered.

“Penelope, it’s Clue,” Emily pointed out, “this whole thing is about death.”

“It’s scary, though.”

“Spencer, _passerotto_ , shut your piehole.”

Spencer broke off from his long-winded tangent and pursed his mouth, eyes round. His lip wobbled. “I’m sorry, Penelope.”

“S’okay,” Penelope mumbled, wiping her eyes, then tearing up again. “Oh, Spencer, don’t cry.”

“Not crying,” Spencer sniffled, tucking himself into Alex, who gave him a tight hug and glanced at Hotch desperately.

He swallowed. “Um, who’s next?”

“Me,” JJ announced, moving her little piece around the board. “Okay. Spence, do you have a Where card?”

Spencer coughed miserably and slid over a card before mumbling, “I know who it is.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Alex shushed, “just move your piece and make the guess.”

Spencer sighed. “But then I’d win, and I always win, and then you guys’ll be mad at me.”

“We won’t be mad at you for winning,” Hotch soothed, rubbing a hand on his shoulder. “Take your guess.”

“Colonel Mustard with the wrench in the study.”

Everyone turned to look at JJ, who was bouncing in her seat. Hotch wordlessly passed over the card and everyone silenced themselves, holding their breath in anticipation.

JJ jumped out of her chair. “Yes!” She slapped the envelope on the table. “I win! Take that!”

“ _Shhhhh!_ ” hissed a kid from another table, but JJ ignored him. She sat back down, leaning back in her chair, and tossed the winning cards on the table. 

“Read ‘em and weep,” Emily remarked, tossing her checklist on the table in defeat.

Penelope turned to James, who was toying with the Colonel Mustard figurine. “You killed Mr. Boddy?” she gasped.

James hung his head, trying and failing to look somber. “So I did,” he replied theatrically. “I had no choice, you see.”

Emily scoffed. “You had no choice to beat him with a wrench?”

“Actually, blunt-force trauma is considered an improvised weapon, so maybe he did have no choice,” Spencer piped up. “It could be self-defense, or just incredibly personal.”

“This is personal?” Morgan jeered, leaning over to swat him in the head. Alex held onto Spencer so he didn’t fly out of the chair, but Spencer didn’t seem fazed by the sudden attack.

“Exactly!” he replied brightly.

Hotch glanced to Alex and flashed her a thumbs-up before gesturing to his phone. Alex glanced down and grinned at the text: _Success?_

 _A+ job,_ she replied.

Or at least, it _was_ an A+ job until JJ and Rossi exchanged a mischievous glance, and the table erupted with accusations of cheating. Hotch sighed, but he couldn’t stifle the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. His phone buzzed with a second sheepish text from Alex: _Okay, an A-. I may have to kick you all out soon._

**Author's Note:**

> if i'm writing fanfic based off someone else's fanfic...is that called fanfiction fanfiction? Fanfic squared?
> 
> i never knew how fun writing au was but this gang owns my heart oh my god i love these squabbling angsty teens


End file.
